Wordplay. Despite the fact I'm nursing a hangover, I love wordplay. This is the thread for all paronomasia; homophony, homography, homonymy, polysemy, metaphors, spoonerisms, paraprosdokia (although there's already a thread for that), and general pundigriony.

Dire "Heard 'em all before" Jokes:

Spoiler:

There was a chess tournament in a hotel. Afterwards, all the grandmasters gathered in the lobby and started showing off about how well they performed. After a short while the hotel manager came out.'I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you all to leave,' he said.'Why?' Asked the grandmasters.'Because,' the manager said, 'I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.'

Spoiler:

Did you know that, apart from being a really good archer, William Tell used to go bowling? It's true--he was even in a bowling team. Unfortunately, all the records were destroyed in a fire.

So we'll never known For Whom The Tells' Bowled.

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Psychic Midget Stages Daring Prison Break: Police are looking for a small medium at large

Spoiler:

What do you call an Italian with a rubber toe?

Roberto.

Spoiler:

I left my alphabet soup on the stove the other day and forgot about it.

It nearly spelled disaster.

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The other day someone left a piece of plasticine in my house.

I didn't know what to make of it.

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I once had a girlfriend with a wooden leg.

But I broke it off.

Spoiler:

Alcohol and calculus don't mix, so don't drink and derive.

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You heard about Arty, right? The Supermarket Strangler? Someone paid him to strangle a pair of victims for 50p each at their local supermarket.The following headlines read: "Arty Chokes Two For A Pound In Tesco's"

Spoiler:

I had a friend who was once an archaeologist.

He had to quit as his career was in ruins.

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The famous contortionist "The Great Flexo" passed away earlier today.

He didn't suffer, and died in his own arms.

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I was slicing some carrots the other day, when the Grim Reaper came and helped me out.

I ended up dicing with death.

Spoiler:

This man-sized cockroach knocked on my door. When I opened it, he spat on the floor, punched me in the face, and stormed off!

Apparently, there's a nasty bug going around.

Spoiler:

I love trying to pack myself into small suitcases.

I can hardly contain myself.

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Just seen a sign outside a DIY Store: "Stainless SteelSinks".

Bit obvious, I thought.

Spoiler:

Chewbacca screwed up on his first day on the job.

It was a wookiee mistake.

Wordplay Phrases:

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than have to have a frontal lobotomy

A good pun is it's own reword.... (I'm truly sorry.)I have a dictionary of puns at home, when ?I next get a chance to I'll read it and remember the better ones for here, until then have some wordplay definitions of words from the Devil's dictionary*:

ACCORD, n. Harmony.

ADAMANT, n. A mineral frequently found beneath a corset. Soluble in solicitate ofgold.

BELLADONNA, n. In Italian a beautiful lady; in English a deadly poison. A strikingexample of the essential identity of the two tongues.

DEJEUNER, n. The breakfast of an American who has been in Paris. Variouslypronounced.

FRIENDSHIP, n. A ship big enough to carry two in fair weather, but only one in foul.

HEBREW, n. A male Jew, as distinguished from the Shebrew, an altogether superiorcreation.

evilbeanfiend wrote:of course there are those who consider the bun to be the lowest form of wheat... i'll get my coat.

Sorry for being rye, but whenever this cheesy, hammy, seedy pun rolls out, I clap my forehead and say d'ough. If anyone kneads to know what I'm talking about, the post is sandwiched neatly between my two. Anyway, enough floury language, anyone worth their oats who can use their loaf should think of a decent pun and baguette before anyone else does, as it'll be a great pitta if they don't. As for me, if you were to ask me if I could think of any bread-related puns, I'd say, no, naan at all. Although I am amaized by the endurum quality of the wordplay here: I'm so excited by some of the real grainers, I can barley contain myself.

evilbeanfiend wrote:of course there are those who consider the bun to be the lowest form of wheat... i'll get my coat.

Sorry for being rye, but whenever this cheesy, hammy, seedy pun rolls out, I clap my forehead and say d'ough. If anyone kneads to know what I'm talking about, the post is sandwiched neatly between my two. Anyway, enough floury language, anyone worth their oats who can use their loaf should think of a decent pun and baguette before anyone else does, as it'll be a great pitta if they don't. As for me, if you were to ask me if I could think of any bread-related puns, I'd say, no, naan at all. Although I am amaized by the endurum quality of the wordplay here: I'm so excited by some of the real grainers, I can barley contain myself.

i don't think it would be going against the grain to point out that some puns are better than others, and one should always try to separate the wheat from the chaff. by selecting and reproducing only the best, perhaps we might evolve better bread puns?

I did think it was strange there wasn't a pun thread, and apparently there is. I only searched Language/Linguistics however. That'll larn me for narrowing my search field. I still think all things pun belong in linguistics rather than games, though.

Anyway, a joke, I extensively elaborated from an old "Shopping Liszt" joke I once heard:

One day I went Chopin, but forgot to bring my Liszt. For Fuchs' sake, I thought, it would take twenty Minuets to Ravel all the way Bach to my apartment. I was running double-sharp, when I heard Allegro coming from the Hairdresser's. One guy was accusing the Barber of being a pussy, and he said "no, you're Debussy!" "Liebe 'im alone!" another man shouted. "Staccato this, you! I don't like your Tone." the barber shouted back. A Minor scuffle, I thought, but then the barber grabbed the man by his Scherzo and threw him across the room. He was about to Crescendo a table, covered in Glass. Fortunately, a man who had been Wagner dog intervened and Previn-ted A Major accident. "Holstill a moment! Now look what you've Gong and done." he cried. He turned to the barber "Of all the people in this town, Mozartired of your hostility! Now stop it, Organ you not do that?" "Yeah, yeah, I Verdi all before" the barber mocked. Diplomacy was obviously not his Forte. The other man, at this point, was Haydn behind Per-cushions on the sofa, Gershwin out tears. His hands were Tremoloing, his voice was Trill, and he was Semibreveing heavily. I had some Symphony for the poor chap. "I'm a Bizet man" the dog-walker said "I don't like to Harp on about it, but I want to see no more Tempos flared." He Tuned towards me and took my arm. "Legato me! Get Orff!" I cried. He hadn't meant to offend me, Bartok it the wrong way and Cleft him round his face. "I didn't give my Tacet consent for you to grab me. You are not Handeling the situation very Weill." "Now Segue here!" he shouted. "I don't want to blow my own Trumpet, but is anyone Rach-man enough to admit their mistakes?" This struck a Chord with everyone present. The tension Diminished to a Minim-um. The barber apologised (a very Cymballic gesture), and a-Grieged he had made a mistake. Harmony was restored. I Waltzed on my merry way. Bassoon, I was home. Vivaldi trouble I've had today, it had never crossed my mind that I would Locke myself out – I forgot the Key of A Flat

And I'm spent. If I can find my friend's response to this (a fish related pun assault) I'll post that up too.

When the machine beings (from the Matrix trilogy) pondered what programming language to use to simulate earth, they quickly agreed on Forth. This means they store all relevant data of earth in one global stack.

A: Why is there no train traffic?B: The conductors are on strike.A: Before the Deutsche Bahn even made their offer?B: Yes, they are on preemptive strike!

There is a fine gentleman, a connoisseur of teas, who has traveled the world for years sampling and critiquing, writing for magazines and journals on the finest teas available. One year a T-Con, the greatest trade show of tea producers, he finds a small booth with a logo he doesn’t recognize. He tries a cup, however, and to his delight it is by far the most delicious tea he has ever sampled. He searches out the booth operator and asks:"This tea is incredible, but I don’t know your company, who are you?"The gentleman replies:“Well sir, we are a small company, based in Mercy Australia, and we are very flattered that you like our product""Its amazing, but I have to know, how is it you get it this good, what’s the secret?”“I cant really tell you sir, its a trade secret.”“Look, I've been working teas for nearly 40 years, and I have never had tea this good. I swear I wont tell anyone, but I have to know, it will drive me mad!”“Well, all right sir, come with me”The boothie leads him into the production area behind the stall, where there sits a steaming cauldron under a heavy lid, big enough around to hold a man. He gestures the gentleman forward and raises the lid, revealing within a smaller steaming compartment, where there sits a live koala, munching on eucalyptus and apparently enjoying the steam bath.“You have to be kidding me, exclaims the man, a koala?”“Yes sir, we found that koala essence somehow greatly improves the flavor of our teas.”“That’s incredible”, he exclaims, but then, frowning asks “but, don’t you need to filter it or anything, the koala must shed, doesn’t it?”The booth worker stiffens, and obviously affronted replies: “the koala tea of mercy is not strained.”

Once there was a traveler that had been all over the world, except for the Chinese city of Taiping. So he went there, hoping to see its sights, but to his surprise, it was barren except for a single key lying on the ground.

Later, his wife called him and asked where he was. He replied: I'm here, Taiping, at the key, bored.

This one is very, very, very long so I'll put it in spoilers. Just a warning, it's very long. Don't click the second until you've read the first.

Spoiler:

So, there's a man crawling through the desert.

He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, hadgreat fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit abig rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cellphone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family,his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his fewfriends had no idea he was out here.

He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran outand he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, nowthat he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which waywas north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to goabout 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas inlast.

He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based uponhow dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has noflashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So,he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplicationlater, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to givehim a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottlein case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds acactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in thedirection he thinks is right.

He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He'sbeen sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reappliedthe sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feelssunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocketis really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and someethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison toit to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, andwhether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.

He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.

By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's beenwalking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours.That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to thetown. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek beda mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. Hefigures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the drycreek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he'sclose, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one ofthese hills, and that'll be all he needs.

As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things,he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.

Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands backup and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.

He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummyand his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that hecan't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'dforgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it thenight before because he'd been in his car.

He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days withoutwater, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it alittle longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having towalk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures,unless he finds water, this is his last day.

He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. Hewaits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goesnumb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just inhis mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn'tfind water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid.

Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go fromhere? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that hestill knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has noidea what to do.

Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the directionhe was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhatto the left of that, and starts walking.

As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a coupleof hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first,and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweatinghe knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke.

He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't waitany longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a largerock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowlyswallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dryand cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takesanother mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle.He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough tomake some difference and keep himself from passing out.

He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him,it kills him - if he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's prettysure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designedto make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluidfor the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that.

He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills,dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water.Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatevermoved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds,lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He'scareful to stay away from the movements.

After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heatstroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of thewiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keepgoing.

After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! Heknows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doingdonuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he's getting woozyenough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers any more or ifhe's hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it,trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.

He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure anymore. He's not even sure how long he's been walking any more. Is it stillmorning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? Itmust be afternoon - it seems like it's been too long since he started out.

He walks through the sand.

After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn'tremember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least hedoesn't think he remembers any. This is bad.

But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figuresthat he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything fromthere that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.

Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or thirdtime, and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up - he'lljust fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.

While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finallygotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling throughthe sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines,if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desertin the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without anyrips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buriedin the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wisheshis throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and ithurts.

He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top,he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he seesis sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks hesees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, moredunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or closeenough.

Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiperfluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing thecap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand.At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It'sa flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, andtries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it's dark - darkerthan the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but hecan't tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell fromhere. He's going to have to go down there and look.

He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune.After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble - he's not going to beable to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps,he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his bodyhits it that for a minute he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - likea movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before itever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his facewith his hands, and waits to stop rolling.

He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enoughenergy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. Whenhe clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spotin the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it.

So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he beginsto crawl towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem tohave the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stagesof dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn'thave water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his lastchance.

He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of thedark area. His eyes won't quite focus any more for some reason. And liftinghis head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He justkeeps crawling.

Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minuteof crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's nowcrawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it -a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see whatthe pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center,where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stonearea.

His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and kneesare so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this darkstone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sunoverhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lyingdown on the nice cool surface.

Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He'sprobably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down anddying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon thebeautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving hima drink. Then he'll know he's gone.

He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die herein the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in thecenter before he goes. He keeps crawling.

It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he'shearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You donot look well. Do you hear me?"

He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands andknees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries somethingdifferent - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a fewseconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, andtries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his handsand tries again. Better this time.

Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanseof stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post orpole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feetout of the stone, at an angle.

And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering andseeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot longdesert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him.

He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up andrun away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, hisfinal resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able tomove from this spot.

Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker thandying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up alittle straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and wavesit in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for amoment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.

Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn't rattled yet -that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn't going to die of snake bite after all.

He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center herebecause he thought he'd heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he waslikely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he wasnow on cool stone. He still didn't have anything to drink. But maybe he hadactually heard a voice. This stone didn't look natural. Nor did that whitepost sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybethey were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snakewas even their pet, and that's why it wasn't biting.

He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but his throat is too dry. Allthat comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he's goingto be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and thebottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out,almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn'tgood. He doesn't have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passesout.

He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips,and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and thenswallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talknow.

He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping tospot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?"

He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"

He turns his head, back towards the snake. That's where the sound had seemedto come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be aspeaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decidesto try asking for help.

"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not bethirsty any more. I've been a long time without water. Can you help me?"

Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice wascoming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open itsmouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and hefalls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."

A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sitsup and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarilydisoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl across thesand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrappedaround the tilted white post, still looking at him.

He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet.He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulderagain - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture holes -they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had beenbitten. By the snake.

"It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. Hehadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy any more. And moreimportantly, he's not thirsty any more - at all!

"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in theafterlife?"

"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way Iwork. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."

"You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty any more? Did you give me adrink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not bethirsty any more? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except forthe windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk?Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"

"No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. Ididn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works - it's what I do. Ibite. I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water justsitting around here."

The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of thedesert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to asnake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Notgreat - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was nolonger thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felthot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the coolstone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longerdying of thirst.

"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in yoursystem with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why youdrank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was leftin the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day ortwo, if you drank enough of it."

"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurtingshoulder and backed away from the snake a little.

"That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "Youget three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at hisown joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.

"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. Thesecond requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding ofresponsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.

"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan,Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Boundused to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't standfor it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big intonames. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorryif I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake soundssomewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.

"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "JackSamson.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to thepoison...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that?What do you mean by that's how you work?"

"That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answerall of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin getswider. "Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer needto drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to notbe thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to makeit permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much atall. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able toget enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert.You've been changed.

"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides theeffects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal.In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years.Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastlyamused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.

"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jackcould tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to readtalking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agreeto make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tellyou."

"Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'dhave to kill me?"

"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.

"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he wastalking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having anasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you reallystop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what doyou mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiperfluid, and just denature it?"

"They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in awhile. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath andon that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when youpulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assumethat they still color wiper fluid blue?"

"Yeah, they do," said Jack.

"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with thefulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me,this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when youdecide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me,write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that willlead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Ofcourse, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'mguessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the bindinganyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence.

Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt alittle nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you knowthat? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"

"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can Iask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"

"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changesto yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, andbefore you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Oromnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseousand yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere andsort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't beomniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not veryuseful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack wasstaring at him.

"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanentgood health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd beimmune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very longtime, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency torecover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for arequest to me."

"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for along time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a requestabout a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's notreally a change to me?"

"Right," nodded Nate.

"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully.

"That takes two requests, Jack."

"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I couldbecome the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"

"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn'tnecessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make youvery athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either.You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's sometruth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. Itall depends on what you decide to do with it."

"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request,after this one?"

"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are morerules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the secondrequest. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he hadshoulders.

"Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanenthealth doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially.Do I need to sign in blood or something?"

"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Orwhatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said,that's how it works - the poison, you know," Nate said apologetically.

Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, itdidn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel betterabout the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen footsnake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt tobe able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jacktried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that itwouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy.

Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle ofnowhere? And did they bring food?

Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...

Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, throughhis jeans...

Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would havedecided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have tohoodwink me like that."

"I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "Youhumans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you -especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple ofminutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of thehealth benefit with this one. I told you that you'd heal quickly now."

"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobodylikes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf orsomething instead?"

"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance youaccidentally kick me or move at the last second."

"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualifyto hear," answered Jack.

"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me tojust start talking?"

"Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food."

"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,"answered Nate.

"Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up."What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magicallywhip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting withexcitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.

"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and biteit for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife,that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.

"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a littlelonger before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else itis you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw.No thanks. Just talk."

"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you startlooking at me as food.

Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued."You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."

Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Natesceptically.

"Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand upand look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the darkstone they were both sitting on with his nose.

Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was arepresentation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped aroundwas coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branchesleft the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - itlooked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions andembedded in the stone than it did like a carving.

Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of thesetting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in thesky.

Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend anothernight out here! Arrrgh!

Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back andstood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," saidJack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going tohave to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating rawdesert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to."

"It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tailthis time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles tothe way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles bythe way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should beable to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you headout early tomorrow, Jack."

Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, andthen sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about headingout right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interestingstuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"

"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "Hefigured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But hecould never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot fromacross the ocean. He worried about that for a while."

"Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"

"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me tocount years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But Ido remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousandsof years, at least."

"So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Jack.

"Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can't remember if the first one of yourkind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but itcould have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grantrequests a 'temptation', though I've rarely had refusals."

"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck outof the stone there?" asked Jack.

"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - muchbigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't rememberif it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. Butone day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to dosomething for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I'vebeen here ever since.

"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"

"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened hiscoils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended intothe stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed toenter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leanedover and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far asJack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, butNate was suddenly there in the way.

"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.

"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push itthat way, and it would move in the slot."

"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.

"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"

"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringingvoice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up andgrinned.

Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinnedJack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does itreally do?"

"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thoughtthe voice I used was funny, didn't you?"

Nate continued to grin.

"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Whywould anyone need to end humanity?"

"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment.Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going reallybad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know arethe rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. Ididn't think to ask back when I started here."

"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.

"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch itunless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one humancan be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.

"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why inthe world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to wantthat! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too,wouldn't it?"

"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time oranother. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down andthink, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often getdisgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while.But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled atthe same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge ofhumanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"

"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.

"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make thisdecision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them arebad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"

"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It'sup to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposedto know."

"But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feelhorrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?"protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have totry your best, Jack."

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidlygetting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel theone bound to this before me?"

"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me toread and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buriedin the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few monthsago."

"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when youfirst told him. What did he do?"

"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, andthen asked me some questions, much like you're doing."

"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.

"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.

"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third requestyou have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the pointthat you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come hereand end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked seriousagain. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."

"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for withhis third request?"

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly,"Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."

"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'llturn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes,straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there.With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slotin the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt thenow familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feetextending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening tothe wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd beenrecently bitten.

Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shapedbulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever,his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that hewas still awake.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while hethought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

"Nate, do accidents count?"

Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know,accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, doesthat still wipe out humanity?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about thatif you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.

"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.

"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pullthe lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw arock?"

"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicatedyou could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remotecontrol for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone bythe next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him thatin the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so theywouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand orwhatever had disappeared."

"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept himoff of the stone and looked up into the sky.

"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too,right?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."

"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long.Do you know what he died of, Nate?"

Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay insociety. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and startquestioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. Hefaked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early andhe could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but heliked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.

"His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn'tstay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spendtime talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago hetold me he'd had enough. It was his time."

"And then he just died?" asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. "He made his forth request, Jack. There's onlyone thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was histime. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they alwayshad.

After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stonewith the sunrise."

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with hismemories. It was a long time until Jack's breathing evened out into sleep.

Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled withthe morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, exceptthat his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how toget back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the longwalk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he madeit back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day,little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desertand walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend witha tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV.They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back withoutincident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate'slever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it.

Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including abook store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning toavoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to seeNate.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his newbackpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and thenstarted walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and heknew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of,and shouldn't really raise suspicions.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers.Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world,others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate,and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, butthat he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he broughta laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger,special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and aspecial keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-footrattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give outits location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited himfairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years,working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhileany more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhapsbecause of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote,and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and startedtraveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had beena fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missingSamuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replaceSamuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on thisvisit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded atJack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate'ssilence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."

Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy aroundfor me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to theedge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told meabout the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could gosee it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even theother deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son tohave that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like Ihave been.

"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hearthat it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to havethat. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't evenjoke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I cando that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that wassomething more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said,"Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meetya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is myfirst son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want toknow what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "Butanyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. Ineeded a replacement."

Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world,and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"

Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You'vealready figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leavehere. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought aboutthis - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it wouldbe like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in anotherhundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself.Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack saidwas, "What do you want me to do?"

Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy aroundthe world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back hereand take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die ofold age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now.I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll beable to die. And I need you to kill me.

"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. AndI've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, sothat's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.

Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. "I'dsay an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the groundor a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way ofgoing out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work,even on me.

"You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack.

"Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that."

Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy!Jack's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack."

Jack didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make itback to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and thenheaded into the desert with Sammy following.Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate throughe-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visitingevery country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had anatural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended upacting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed tokeep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they werenearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted afew times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startlethem greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a fewwild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit thenewspapers or the public in general.

When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try someundersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finallydrew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Jack wasstalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out thatJack probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humanscould be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.

So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and toldJack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties fromhis dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back toJapan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more bygetting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned asmuch as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and wasdefinitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time tohead back and see Nate.

When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where heand Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded upSammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.

When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find thoseyears ago when he'd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn't really feel likewalking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten tofigure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd eitherhave to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.

As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose hisresolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It wasonly going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracksafterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if theydrove, and then they could get it over tonight.

Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out ofsight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed outinto the desert.

Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had beennursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds,revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came tothe dunes, Jack didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headedup the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he'ddecided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losingtraction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying tokeep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down theother side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up andlaughing at Jack's driving.

As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack sawthat this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate,waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RVstarted slipping down the other side.

Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumpedthe brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster andfaster.

Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they wereheading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course forit. If Jack didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to endhumanity.

Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn'tworking. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second,Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around thelever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hitthe lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steeraway.

Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV alittle bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn justright.

The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in thesand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check thatthey were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed somethingelse that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrappedaround the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on thestone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side ofthe lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RVwas already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across thesand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around thelever to the other side.

Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit thelever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammyrealized the same thing.

Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone.Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel,